A Duke in Time (The Widow Rules #1) - Janna MacGregor Page 0,1

glanced her way then darted out of the room like it was on fire. But what caused her the most amazement was that the woman stood in Mr. Hanes’s office at all.

Dressed in a dark mauve muslin gown, she was elegantly attired. Whoever she was, she looked uncomfortable with the weight she carried in her middle since she was rubbing her lower back. Though Katherine was no expert, the stranger before her had to be in the last couple months of confinement. What would cause her to venture forth on such a dismal day?

Surely, the woman was in the wrong office. She couldn’t be there for the reading of the will. It was only for the immediate family, Katherine and the Duke of Randford.

Nevertheless, the petite woman stood before Katherine. With an ethereal beauty enhanced by bright blue eyes and wisps of escaped hair, she exhibited a calmness in direct contrast to Katherine’s stomach, which swooped endlessly like a bat hunting in the wee hours of the morning.

“Would you mind if I sit?” the young woman asked as she waved a hand to one of the chairs in front of Mr. Hanes’s desk. Mountains of paper were stacked on top with more mounds on the floor, a troubling sign that today’s proceedings could last well into the evening.

“Of course not,” Katherine answered. She quickly scooted one of the chairs toward the woman. “Please, let me help you.”

“Thank you.” The woman lowered herself into the chair.

“Are you somehow related to the deceased?” Katherine asked gently.

The young woman nodded. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Lady Meriwether Vareck.”

Katherine’s heart skipped mid-beat. Struggling to keep her bearings, she reminded herself she wasn’t the type of woman to faint. “Pardon me? I must have heard you incorrectly.”

Another Lady Meriwether Vareck?

Before the woman could answer, a different clerk escorted another beautiful woman into the office. Tall, thin, and elegantly attired, the lady tilted her head in a manner that was the embodiment of pure grace. It was difficult to see her since her hat hid most of her face.

With his mouth gaping, the clerk stood motionless while his gaze darted between Katherine and the other two women.

The red-haired clerk who had left to fetch the first woman a drink appeared with a full glass of water. When he saw the scene before him, his face paled. “You weren’t supposed to bring the third one here. Not until Mr. Hanes had a chance to talk to the duke.”

The clerk who had brought in the last women huffed in revolt. “And you weren’t to bring the second one here”—he waved his hands in the direction of the pregnant woman—“until Mr. Hanes had a chance to talk to the duke. Who escorted the first one”—he nodded in Katherine’s direction—“in here?”

Seeking purchase to keep from falling to her knees, Katherine reached for the closest chair and dug her fingers into the supple leather, clinging to it like a safety line in rough seas.

It was inconceivable. Meri had another wife. She shook her head, hoping it was all a bad dream.

No. Not another, but two.

The bad dream twisted violently into a nightmare that hit her with the force of a sledgehammer. She couldn’t breathe, but the dull pounding of her heart continued.

The bloody bastard had three wives, and one of them with whom he’d obviously found the time to consummate the marriage.

Her burning lungs protested the lack of air. She gasped for breath, but thankfully, the clerks’ verbal attacks muffled the ungodly sound. The other women’s gazes flew back and forth between the two young men. They’d completely forgotten about Katherine.

Outside the room, the crisp click of boot heels against the wooden flooring grew louder.

“Three? As in wives? Why should I be surprised?” The deep baritone voice echoed from somewhere in the building. “Here’s the miscreant’s will. That’s what I pay you for. Handle it, Hanes.”

“But, Your Grace,” Mr. Hanes pleaded. “We can’t find the money.”

Abruptly, the footsteps stopped. “What?”

Katherine slipped from the room, softly closing the door behind her. She leaned against the mahogany panel, hoping the cool wood would calm the overwhelming sense of dizziness. How could Meri have done this to her? One word came to mind. Bigamist. Yet, if he had three wives, then trigamist correctly identified him. She closed her eyes for a moment. For the love of heaven, if he had more than three, that made him a polygamist. The thought sent her reeling. Plus, he’d never sent a word or a peep about